


the way you said 'i love you'

by enby-crowley (probablypadders)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Friends With Benefits, Genderfluid Crowley, Love Confessions, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Sort of? - Freeform, Wall Sex, but then, chapter two is a continuation of episode six, two repressed idiots boink instead of talking about their feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-07-30 11:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20096281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablypadders/pseuds/enby-crowley
Summary: a collection of Tumblr prompts; different ways Aziraphale and Crowley say 'I love you' for the first time





	1. as a shuddering sigh

**Author's Note:**

> this prompt completely ran away with me so i decided to post here rather than dealing with tumblr's godawful ask editing.
> 
> if i get more prompts from the same post i'll add them as a new chapter!
> 
> chapter one is for teddyhugbear aka thegoblinbastard on tumblr

A new Arrangement of sorts had been born on the first day of the rest of their lives, only no words had been exchanged to draw the lines in the sand this time; this new facet of their relationship had begun with a hesitant kiss that made Crowley’s chest ache if he thought about it for too long.

They’d celebrated their victory over Heaven and Hell with dinner at the Ritz, or rather Aziraphale had partaken while Crowley watched. He made his way steadily through a bottle of wine, then another, as if trying to wash away the itching in his palms,  _ craving _ to reach out and touch the angel he’d come so close to losing.

They’re both pleasantly buzzed when they settle the bill and make their way outside, but Crowley quickly sobers up like he’d dunked his face in ice water when Aziraphale rested a hand on his chest, looking up at him beseechingly with those wide, blue eyes full of unmistakable want.

“Kiss me, Crowley.  _ Please _ .”

Crowley’s heart stumbles and he blinks, swallows, his voice rough when he answers.

“Sober up, angel.”

His tone brooks no argument and Aziraphale shudders as he purges the alcohol from his bloodstream, the hand still resting on Crowley’s chest curling into his shirt. Crowley half expects him to stammer out an apology and pull away but he doesn’t, the heat in his eyes burning  _ brighter _ somehow, and his heart pounds in his throat as they lean in together.

The first kiss is the testing of waters, a featherlight brush of lips, but then a wounded sound crawls its way up from Crowley’s chest and Aziraphale’s hesitation seems to melt away. A gentle tug of fiery locks draws another desperate keen from the demon, his lips parting just enough to let Aziraphale deepen the kiss. One moment they’re standing in the middle of the street and the next, everything shifts with a miracle - neither of them are sure whose - and then they’re in Aziraphale’s back room, stumbling a few steps until Crowley’s pinned against the wall and  _ oh _ , if he hasn’t thought about this for as long as he can remember.

They kiss like the world is ending all over again, desperate and heated, loathing to part even to undress and eventually miracling their half-shed clothing away in their haste. They don’t talk, they don’t  _ need _ to, an unspoken understanding passing between them as Aziraphale lifts him by the backs of his thighs and he crosses his ankles behind the angel’s back. Those warm, clever fingers work him open with the utmost care, miraculously slicked to ease the way, and Crowley is broken down to a writhing mess, clawing at Aziraphale’s back to draw out more of those pretty noises he’s making against the demon’s throat. 

It’s only when he begs without shame that the angel pulls back just enough to line himself up and sink in to the hilt in one smooth motion, Crowley’s head thudding back against the wall as they both forget how to breathe for a moment. Once he remembers himself Aziraphale shifts his grip to Crowley’s ass and snaps his hips  _ hard _ , giving the demon just what he needed without having to ask. Overwhelmed, Crowley grabs the back of the angel’s head and drags him into a messy kiss. His whole body racks with a shudder when leaning forward changes the angle of Aziraphale’s thrusts  _ just so _ , and all he can do is wind his arms around the other man’s shoulders and give himself over to it all.

Afterwards, once they’ve miracled away the mess and gotten dressed in silence, Crowley makes a vague excuse about his plants and takes his leave.

Aziraphale lets him go.

He swipes away a few errant tears as he drives, quietly furious with himself, but still lets a miracle settle over his skin to preserve the multitude of marks that Aziraphale had left behind.

***

They fall into bed together every so often after that fateful night. Crowley can’t bring himself to put an end to it, allowing himself to say with his body what he’s too scared to put into words even after all this time. The angel maps his body with reverence that almost  _ burns _ , learning where to kiss, how to touch, and still Crowley keeps his heart under lock and key, refusing to let the angel crack him open and scoop out the mess of it.

_ It’s yours _ , he thinks, but doesn’t say.  _ Please, angel, take it. Keep it safe. _

***

It’s when their new Arrangement takes them to Crowley’s flat that he fucks up.

They’d been out for lunch and Aziraphale had made noises that bordered on obscene - to Crowley at least, knowing the angel as he did now. He’d crowded him against the side of the Bentley afterwards to steal kiss after kiss that tasted like sweet sin and lemon cheesecake.

_ Come home with me _ , Crowley had growled into his mouth, delighting in the shiver it provoked. He’d barely gotten the words out before they’re at his door. Aziraphale smiled sheepishly even as his eyes burned with decidedly unangelic desire.

“Your car’s outside my dear, I just couldn’t wait.”

The easy admission stokes the fire in the demon’s gut and the need to get his hands on Aziraphale’s skin is white-hot; he hauls the angel closer by his lapels and kisses him fervently as they back through the door he’s unlocked with a thought. Aziraphale presses him against the wall just by the door, kissing and biting the tender skin of his throat until porcelain white is littered with red-purple marks.When he sneaks a hand between them to cup the front of Crowley’s jeans he realises which Effort the demon has made and  _ smirks _ , the bastard.

“Oh, I’m going to have  _ fun _ with this, my dear.” he all but purrs and  _ fuck _ , that only makes Crowley wetter, the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand not nearly enough through the layer of denim.

“Please,  _ please _ , whatever you want angel, just  _ touch me _ .”

They lean in as one for another kiss and stumble through to Crowley’s bedroom leaving a trail of clothes in their wake, both down to shoes, socks and underwear by the time the backs of Crowley’s knees hit the end of his bed. Aziraphale picks him up and throws him onto the middle of the bed, the easy show of strength making Crowley  _ throb _ with need.

Looking for all the world like the cat that got the cream, Aziraphale rids them both of their remaining clothes with a snap and crawls up the bed to press his smirk to Crowley’s swollen lips before trailing burning kisses down, down, down, pausing at the sharp vee of the demon’s hips to look up into those golden eyes.

“Is this okay?”

“Aziraphale I swear to Somebody if you don’t put that mouth on me I’l fu— _ ucking hell, angel _ .”

He’d cut himself off when Aziraphale did as he was bidden, that first slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue over Crowley’s slit making the demon shudder.

“What was that, dear?” he murmurs against the heat of him.  _ Bastard. _

“Nothing at all.” Crowley chokes out when he remembers how to form words, his shaking fingers threading gently through white-blonde hair.

Aziraphale’s satisfied hum reverberates against Crowley’s clit before he teases it with his tongue; the angel has always been a quick study and it’s a matter of minutes before Crowley is reduced to a writhing mess, torn between grinding against that wicked tongue or fucking himself down onto the two fingers Aziraphale is curling inside him. The heat at the base of his spine twists ever tighter until the tension snaps in a rush and he rides out his orgasm on Aziraphale’s face, thighs clenching reflexively. 

The angel mercifully backs off from Crowley’s clit when he jerks back with an oversensitive whine but doesn’t still his fingers and occupies his mouth sucking marks over the inside of the demon’s thighs until the twitching aftershocks of his orgasm subside.

Aziraphale is  _ aching _ but he’s also enjoying himself far too much between his demon’s thighs; now that the other man is bucking into his touches rather than twisting away, oversensitive, the angel kisses his way back to Crowley’s clit and moans against slick flesh. It’s enough to make Crowley sob out a moan of his own, fingers winding tight in his own hellfire hair so he doesn’t pull on the angel’s curls.

Before long his hands end up curled around the back of Aziraphale’s head to keep him close and his legs have settled around the angel’s back, heels digging into his plush backside, and he’s shaking all over by the time he tips over the edge of orgasm again moaning an approximation of Aziraphale’s name. When it gets to be too much he pushes the angel’s head away only to grab at his shoulders until Aziraphale gets the message and crawls back up the bed for a kiss, letting the demon taste himself on his tongue.

Crowley’s still shaking, Aziraphale realises, and what’s more he’s  _ crying _ , just a little, and the angel’s heart plummets into his stomach as he gently wipes away the tears only for Crowley to let out a wounded sound and pull him into another searing kiss.

“ _ Angel _ .”

“I’m here, darling, I’ve got you.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,  _ please _ , I need it. Need you.”

The raw desperation in Crowley’s voice spurs Aziraphale into action and he reaches down to line himself up, hardly daring to breathe as he slides in to the hilt in one slow, smooth motion. Crowley kisses the angel blindly, clutching at him with shaking hands, and once he’s had a moment to adjust he rolls his hips up. 

“ _ Please _ .”

It’s barely more than a whisper but Aziraphale takes the hint, withdrawing almost entirely before snapping his hips sharply. They soon fall into rhythm, Crowley scratching at the angel’s back and baring his throat to his lips and teeth, tears flowing unchecked.

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ , angel, feels so good,  _ fuck me _ .”

“Oh you beautiful creature,  _ look _ at you. Do you think you can come for me again?”

“Yesyes _ yes _ , so close, don’t stop.”

Aziraphale drops to his forearms and shifts his weight onto one side, freeing up his hand so he can rub his thumb in circles over Crowley’s clit as he continues to fuck into him. It doesn’t take long until Crowley’s back is arching sharply, nails dragging down Aziraphale’s spine as he shakes apart, and it’s enough to tip the angel over the edge as well after just a few more thrusts.

“I love you.” Crowley gasps, barely audible, his thighs still trembling.

They both freeze.

Crowley shoves at Aziraphale’s hips until he pulls out and moves to slide out from under the angel but doesn’t get very far, one gentle hand holding him in place by his hip.

“Crowley, darling, look at me.”

He doesn’t. He  _ can’t _ . He stares unseeing at the wall instead, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He won’t start crying again, he  _ won’t _ .

Lips brush his shoulder, the gentle touch bringing him out in goosebumps.

“Please, my love.”

Those two words kindle the stubborn spark of hope in Crowley’s chest and he turns to face Aziraphale, a tear spilling over.

“Oh,  _ Crowley _ …”

Aziraphale leans in, giving him plenty of time to speak up or move away, but he lets it happen. This kiss is softer than any they’ve shared since the beginning of the new Arrangement and Crowley aches with it, shaking from head to toe. He allows himself to touch Aziraphale again; arms around his shoulders, one hand in his hair, basking in the love radiating from his angel in waves that warm him to the core.

When Aziraphale finally pulls back he doesn’t go far, brushing away Crowley’s tears and pressing lips to his forehead before shifting to lay on his side and pulling the demon into his arms. He goes willingly, finding sanctuary in the crook of neck and shoulder, and the sweep of Aziraphale’s warm, wide hand up and down his spine soothes the tremors running through him.

“I love you too.” Aziraphale returns once Crowley is calmer, kissing the words into his demon’s hair. “I love you so much, my darling, I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Crowley shakes his head at that, leaning up to claim his angel with a kiss and trying to curl impossibly closer into his warm embrace.

“I’m  _ yours _ , angel. For as long as you’ll have me.”


	2. as an apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the evening after their trials and dinner at the Ritz has turned into a bottle of wine at the bookshop; they’d lapsed into other conversations while Aziraphale worked his way through each course but inevitably circled back to the day’s events once they were alone once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a stretch for the prompt to be honest but I have a lot of feelings about Aziraphale's "trial" and welp
> 
> this prompt came from shoutingsass on tumblr aka Ariel, ty bb ♥

It’s the evening after their trials and dinner at the Ritz has turned into a bottle of wine at the bookshop; they’d lapsed into other conversations while Aziraphale worked his way through each course but inevitably circled back to the day’s events once they were alone once more.

Aziraphale had filled Crowley in on his own trial, grimacing at the casual destruction of another demon but delighting in the laughter he provokes with the image of Crowley’s corporation in a bathing suit and socks, splashing holy water at the denizens of Hell who had gathered to watch.

Wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes, Aziraphale sighs happily before nudging Crowley’s ankle with a socked foot.

“Anyway, that’s quite enough from me, my dear. What happened upstairs?”

Aziraphale’s expectant grin fades when Crowley suddenly appears fascinated with the wine in his glass, which improves its vintage by several years under the intensity of his stare. 

Crowley briefly considers making something up and sweeping the conversation aside to avoid hurting his angel but dismisses the thought just as quickly as it occurred; they don’t know how long their little stunt has bought them and he would have to fill Aziraphale in eventually. He might as well rip off the plaster now and get it over with rather than let the knowledge of Heaven’s planned execution fester in the back of his mind indefinitely.

Squashing down the urge to reach for his glasses, Crowley meets Aziraphale’s worried gaze.

“They didn’t give you a trial, angel.” he says softly.

The angel frowns. That can’t be right, surely? Crowley had been given some semblance of a trial and that was in  _ Hell _ for pity’s sake. And yet… the heartbreak in Crowley’s expression speaks volumes. Aziraphale’s own heart sinks.

“Oh.”

Looking away from Crowley’s soft, concerned eyes, Aziraphale retrieves his wine glass from the coffee table and drains it in one go before it shifts into a glass of brandy which he sips absently as Crowley’s words sink in. He doesn’t quite know how to feel but his innards seem to twist, as if one of the archangels had reached within him and wrung out the last dregs of his faith that Heaven would do the right thing when it came down to it.

It’s only when he feels movement to his left that he blinks back to the present and realises his vision is blurred. He sniffs, pulling out a handkerchief to dab ineffectively at his eyes while Crowley gently rubs between his shoulder blades. The demon shifts to kneel facing him and gently guides Aziraphale’s head to his shoulder, pressing a kiss to cloudsoft curls.

“They never deserved you, angel.” he says softly, running oh so gentle fingers through the fine hair at the nape of Aziraphale’s neck until the angel shivers despite himself. Finally, the last of Aziraphale’s resolve crumbles and he allows himself to lean in closer, lets Crowley wrap both arms around him and tucks his forehead into the hellfire-warm skin at the nape of his neck to hide his tears.

“I never was quite what they expected of me.” Aziraphale murmurs after a while, wiping his eyes again. Admitting it aloud grates against his aching heart but the warmth of Crowley’s embrace makes it easier to bear.

“You’re worth thousands of them.” comes Crowley’s immediate response, disdain for the archangels dripping from each word. “They seem to forget that we were created to love Her and Her creations. Humans included. You’re the only angel I know who actually follows that.”

The  _ we _ seems to escape Crowley’s notice but Aziraphale picks up on it and smiles to himself, a soft, sad thing. He rests a hand on the demon’s knee and squeezes gently.

“Thank you, darling.”

_ That _ gets Crowley’s attention. He stiffens reflexively and then slowly, deliberately, lets the tension unwind, pressing his lips to the crown of Aziraphale’s head again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise just how badly they treated you up there.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “I didn’t want you to know.”

A pregnant pause.

“I mean— I’ve seen the way you look at me, I know you care about me. I suppose some selfish part of me didn’t want their low estimation of me to tarnish that.”

“Angel.”

It takes him a moment, but he lifts his head to look at Crowley again.

Warm, callused fingers frame his face and Aziraphale lets himself lean into the touch.

“Listen to me, Aziraphale.  _ Nothing _ those sanctimonious pricks could say about you would change my opinion of you in the slightest. Yes, you’re a fussy, obstinate, hedonistic  _ bastard _ , but you also happen to be my favourite person in the universe and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you for all the glory She could ever have offered me.”

“Oh,  _ Crowley _ …”

Aziraphale’s eyes fill again but he blinks away the tears impatiently, resting a hand over the rapid thrum of Crowley’s heart as he leans up to rest their foreheads together.

“I love you.” he breathes.

He feels the whisper of lips against his cheek, a hair’s breadth from the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, angel.”

Aziraphale turns his head just enough to claim Crowley’s lips properly this time and they share a shaky exhale, hardly daring to move lest this moment shatter between them.

Slowly, so carefully, Aziraphale smooths his free hand up Crowley’s arm, across his shoulder the curl around the back of his neck, drawing him just that little bit closer as the angel tilts his head to accommodate. 

Their first kiss bleeds into another, then another, each tender press of lips flooding them both with gentle warmth but there’s no urgency, no hurry for  _ more _ even when Aziraphale drops his hand from Crowley’s neck to feel behind himself, leaning back against the arm of the sofa and reeling his demon closer by that silver scarf he so adores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at @enby-crowley; prompts are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! feel free to follow me on tumblr @enby-crowley; prompts are welcome but i have a stupid number of WIPs already and work full time so it may take me a while to get to them <3


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